


Mine

by angelsaves



Category: Mine (Song), Sucker Punch (2011), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/F, Secret Identity, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor is a careless man's careful daughter. The college girl working part time waiting tables makes a rebel out of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impertinence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinence/gifts).



> This is the version of Taylor Swift from the "You Belong With Me" video (she looks [like this](http://theinspirationroom.com/daily/musicvideos/2009/9/you-belong-with-me-music-video.jpg)). Rosemary was once known as Sweet Pea. In the language of flowers, sweet pea means "departure"; rosemary means "remembrance." [Here's a picture of her](http://i46.tinypic.com/347i642.jpg). And for good measure, have [Julia Sheer's cover of "Mine"](http://www.mediafire.com/?qbhn3163khah727) (in case you're not a TSwift person).
> 
> gifted to imp to make her feel better. oh, and it's unbetaed, because i'm the worst.

"mine"

Taylor's been going to this diner to study for months now. She has a routine. She sits at the undersized booth in the corner by the bathrooms, because nobody else wants to sit there, but it has an outlet. First, she orders a tuna melt, since fish is brain food, and then she drinks coffee until she's jittery, and then she orders a vanilla milkshake with two maraschino cherries to soak up the caffeine and reward herself for working hard.

She's always working hard, because no one ever bothers her. That's how she likes it. The waiters don't mind that she stays there all night sometimes, if she tips well and doesn't make noise. They just do their thing.

Until tonight. Apparently, the new waitress doesn't know that Taylor has a routine, and she isn't picking up on hints, either. She keeps coming back and talking to her.

"So what are you working on?" the waitress asks, or, "Are you sure you just want another cup of coffee? No fries or anything?"

Taylor tries to give her stern looks over her glasses, but all the waitress does is smile at her, and then bring her more coffee.

At about one-thirty, the waitress comes over with Taylor's fifth cup of coffee. "It's getting late," she says. "Are you... do you have someplace to sleep?"

"I study here late all the time," Taylor says sharply. She pushes her glasses up her nose. "The other waiters don't make me leave."

"I don't want you to leave," the waitress says. She slides into the seat across from Taylor. "I was trying to find out if you were, you know... in trouble."

"In _trouble_!"

She laughs. "God, I'm bad at this. Are you homeless?"

"No," Taylor says. "I have a home. I just can't concentrate there." Her father is going to remember to turn the heat on soon, she's sure.

"Okay, good," the waitress says. She's still sitting there. "I did that for a while, and... it's no good."

"Really?" Taylor asks, surprised. She closes [dumb english book] on her index finger. "You don't loo-- I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

"It could be your business, if you wanted." The look she gives Taylor makes her blush, for some reason.

"I don't even know your name," Taylor says. She sits up a little straighter. "It's impolite to ask for details of your life when you're still basically a stranger."

"Call me Rosemary," the waitress -- Rosemary -- says. "What's your name?"

"Taylor," Taylor says. "'Rosemary -- that's for remembrance.'" She remembers that from last year's English class.

"'I pray you, love, remember,'" Rosemary says, smiling. "Hamlet, right?"

"Yeah," Taylor says. "Ophelia, after she loses her mind."

"But she's never so crazy she gets the flower meanings wrong."

"Pansies are for thoughts," Taylor says, trying to remember the rest.

"From the French _pensées_ ," Rosemary says.

"Do you speak French?"

"A little. Mostly just 'Where is the bathroom?', 'Vodka cranberry, please,' 'Where does it hurt?'..." She laughs. "You know, the important stuff."

Taylor laughs too. "Right, the important stuff."

"So, Taylor. What do you do?" Rosemary says 'Taylor' like she's rolling it around in her mouth like candy.

"Homework, mostly," Taylor says. "I'm boring." It's rote, the same thing she always says when people ask.

"No, you're not," Rosemary says. "Maybe you let people _think_ you're boring, but I don't believe it."

Taylor blushes. "Maybe."

"I better get back to work," Rosemary says. "Do you need anything?"

"Not right now, thank you," Taylor says. When Rosemary's gone, [book] seems even more boring.

Homework is going to be her way out, though. She's not athletic, and singing isn't practical, so the only way Taylor is going to end up better than her father is by working hard and earning scholarships. Then she'll go to college, get a degree in something good like nursing or computer science, and never, ever have anyone compare her to him again.

When Taylor's finished her English and bio, and made inroads on next week's Spanish, she asks Rosemary for her usual milkshake. 

"Two cherries, huh? I bet that's really wild for you," Rosemary says, grinning.

Stung, Taylor says, "I _like_ cherries."

"Oh, don't pout, pretty," Rosemary says. She taps Taylor's lower lip with one finger. "I'm sorry I teased you." 

"It's okay," Taylor says. She touches her lip.

Her milkshake has six cherries in it when Rosemary comes back, and she gives her a hopeful look, like a puppy. Or maybe like a cat, bringing her a bird with the head ripped off. Taylor laughs joyously. "Thank you, Rosemary!"

"You're welcome." She smiles. "Hey, so -- I'm off now. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Please," Taylor says. She pulls her books towards her and tucks them into her backpack.

"Thank you." Rosemary slides into the booth again with her own milkshake -- layered three different colors, with two cherries on top -- and gives Taylor another one of those unsettling looks.

"What kind is your milkshake?" Taylor asks, popping a cherry into her mouth.

"Cookies & cream, pistachio, and strawberry," Rosemary says cheerily.

Taylor wrinkles her nose. "That sounds gross."

Rosemary takes a sip. "Not bad!"

"Really?"

"Here, try it." Rosemary pushes her glass across the table.

Suspiciously, Taylor tastes it. It actually is pretty good -- weird, but good. "I think I like it," she says.

Rosemary laughs. "You sound shocked!"

"Well, look at it!" Taylor pushes it back. "All those flavors together?"

"Sometimes it's time to step outside your comfort zone," Rosemary says. She picks one of the cherries off her shake. "Can you tie a knot in the stem with your tongue?"

Taylor raises her eyebrows. "Can I _what_?"

Rosemary holds up one finger, like "wait a minute," and then does something weird with her face. Taylor is mesmerized. Finally, she spits something out into her hand and shows it to Taylor: the cherry stem, tied into a loose knot.

"Oh my god, I'm trying that!" Taylor bites the stem off one of her cherries and starts to bend it around itself with her tongue. She must be making some pretty weird faces, because Rosemary is watching her and covering her mouth to hide a laugh. After a minute, Taylor sticks out her tongue with the knotted stem on it, and goes cross-eyed trying to see it.

"You know what that means, right?" Rosemary says, as Taylor turns away to spit the cherry stem into her napkin.

"It means you're a good kisser, right?" Taylor sips her milkshake.

Rosemary laughs, low in her throat. "That too."

"Wha -- _oh_." Taylor blushes. "That."

"Yeah," Rosemary says. "That. I like it."

"Which?" Taylor asks impulsively. Then she covers her cheeks with her hands. "Oh, dear! Forget I said that. I'm so rude tonight."

"Don't be silly," Rosemary says. "We're friends now, right?"

"I'd like that," Taylor says. She's not exactly overloaded with friends; really, it's just Abigail. And now Rosemary.

"Then we are." Rosemary reaches out and takes one of Taylor's hands and squeezes it. "So what did you mean, which?"

"I meant, um." Taylor drops her voice to a whisper. "Giving or receiving?"

Rosemary leans in and matches her whisper. "Both."

Taylor is suddenly very aware that they're still holding hands. It's not uncomfortable, exactly, but she keeps noticing it. Rosemary's fingers are cold from her milkshake, and strong. Thoughtlessly, Taylor strokes her fingers with the pad of her thumb, and she hears Rosemary's breath catch. "Oh my god," she whispers.

"Are you okay?" Rosemary asks. Her forehead creases, but she squeezes Taylor's hand again, gently. 

"Yeah, I think so," Taylor says. Her face feels hot, so she pulls her milkshake closer to her with her free hand and takes a drink.

"Hey, Taylor," Rosemary says. Taylor looks up. Her eyes are really pretty. "Can I take you out sometime?"

"Like... a date?" Taylor's eyes widen. She's never been on a date before.

"Yeah, like a date."

"I'd, um." Taylor gulps. "I think I'd like that."

Rosemary grins at her. "Good." She takes her hand away -- Taylor has to tell herself sternly not to whine like a sad puppy -- and scrawls on Taylor's receipt with one of the pens stuck through her hair. "Here -- I'd better get going. But text me later, okay?"

The receipt has Taylor's usual amount on it, and below that, a phone number, the name _Rosemary_ in spiky handwriting, and a tiny flower with pointy petals. "Okay," Taylor says.

Rosemary gets up and starts to leave, then stops, turns back, and kisses Taylor on the cheek. "Bye, Taylor," she says.

Taylor puts her hand over her cheek, like the kiss is a butterfly that might fly away. "Bye," she whispers, but Rosemary is already gone.

After a moment, Taylor shakes her head briskly and starts to pack up her things. She leaves plenty of money on the table, folds the receipt carefully and puts it in her jeans pocket, zips up her backpack, and heads out into the cold morning.

And then she goes back in. "I forgot my jacket," she tells the busboy, who smiles and hands it to her. "Thanks so much!"

There's still time to get a few hours of sleep before school; it's 3:30am, and her first class doesn't start until 7:40am. That's plenty.

***

"Good morning!" Abigail chirps, taking her usual seat next to Taylor in their empty history classroom. "Somebody here didn't get much sleep, did she!"

"You are so mean," Taylor says, rubbing her eyes. "You are just... mean."

"I know," Abigail says. She pats Taylor's shoulder. "Can I play with your hair?"

"God, no, it's a rat's nest!"

"Taylor," Abigail says patiently, "'Can I play with your hair' is a socially-acceptable way to say 'let me groom you.'"

"Oh, right. Okay, yes, you can groom me." Usually Taylor is a little quicker on the uptake with Abigail's hints, but not this morning.

Abigail pulls the elastic out of Taylor's messy ponytail and starts combing through the tangles with her fingers. Taylor winces. She really should have taken the time to brush her hair before school instead of hitting snooze yet again.

"So," Abigail says. "We didn't really have that much work to do last night. Why were you up so late?"

Her fingers are gentle for now, but Taylor knows Abigail isn't above pulling if she thinks she's being lied to. "I, um. I made a new friend."

"A friend, huh? A cute friend?"

"I think she's cute," Taylor says. Then she winces again. That wasn't what she meant to say.

Abigail's quiet for a moment, but she keeps combing through Taylor's hair. "So does that mean you're..." She separates out a section near Taylor's forehead and starts to French-braid. "Are you a lesbian, then?"

Taylor thinks about Rosemary's smile and her starry hazel eyes. "Maybe," she says. "I'm not sure. I know I think this girl is pretty, but I've thought boys were handsome before."

"Do you want to huuuuuug her? You want to kiiiiiss her?" Abigail giggles. Of course she wouldn't miss an opportunity to quote Miss Congeniality, Taylor thinks fondly.

"I think so," Taylor says. Abigail tugs sharply on a strand behind her ear. "Ow! Yes! I do, I want to... I want to do those things."

"Then you're either gay or bi," Abigail says wisely. She's nearly halfway down Taylor's head now. "I guess that depends on whether you want to do _those things_ with guys, in theory, but that's not the interesting part."

"Don't we have _class_?" Taylor asks, twisting her neck to try to see the door.

"Don't move," Abigail says, pulling her hair again. "Of course we do. You're just half an hour early, because you forgot you had a free period."

"Oh," Taylor says. "Right."

"So," Abigail says. "This girl. What's her name? What does she look like?"

"Rosemary," Taylor says, trying to keep the gooey tone out of her voice. "She's -- sort of blondeish, like me, and she's got these eyes that seem like she can see right through you."

"Somebody's got a cru-ush," Abigail sing-songs. She snaps the hair tie around the end of Taylor's braid. "There, done."

"I don't have a crush," Taylor lies. "Crushes are stupid."

"Sure," Abigail says. "That sounds reasonable. So when are you going out with her?"

"I -- don't know," Taylor says. She digs in her jeans pocket for the receipt, then neatly flattens it on her desk so she can read the number.

"She drew a flower? Cute," Abigail says, leaning over to look. "Text her!"

"I'm _going to,_ " Taylor says. "I just don't remember where my phone is."

"Oh, sweetie." Abigail pats her hand. "You really didn't sleep much last night, did you?"

"Not much." Taylor covers her face with her hands. "I just -- wanted to keep talking to her, you know?"

"That's adorable!"

Finally, the teacher comes in. Taylor takes her usual careful notes and doesn't doodle in the margins at all. That would be silly. Anyway, she doesn't even know Rosemary's last name.

***

At lunch, Abigail asks, "Did you find your phone?"

Taylor flips her off without putting down her Red Bull, then pulls her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket, where it might have been the whole time, but she's not telling.

"Good! Text her!"

"I'm going to, oh my gosh!" She's already typed Rosemary's name into her contacts. There's a smiley face next to it. She just hasn't figured out what to say.

Abigail takes a big bite of her sandwich. "Quit agonizing over her phrasing," she says, mouth full.

"Say it, don't spray it," Taylor says. She takes off her glasses and wipes them clean, even though they aren't actually dirty.

Abigail snorts. "What is this, third grade?"

"Whatever." Taylor stares at her phone again. What should she _say? ___

"Oh, for crying out loud," Abigail says, and snatches the phone.

Taylor gasps in horror. "Give that back!"

Abigail bats her away with one hand, typing with the other. "One second!"

"Oh my gosh! I hate you!" Taylor grabs for it again, but doesn't manage to get it back before Abigail hits send. "You are the _worst friend_ ," she says.

"Oh, calm down and look what I said," Abigail says, going back to her lunch.

Taylor checks. _hi, it's taylor :)_ "I guess that's not _too_ bad," she admits.

"It's exactly what you were going to get around to saying, I just took, like, three fewer hours to get to it."

"Hmmph." Taylor bites into her own sandwich. Abigail might be right, but she doesn't want to give her the satisfaction.

A moment later, her phone buzzes, and she almost chokes.

"What'd she say, what'd she say?" Abigail cranes her neck, so, perversely, Taylor turns to hide the phone from view.

_hi taylor :) get any sleep last night?  
not much, but i don't mind  
me neither. hey what are u doing fri.?  
idk, what did you have in mind?  
a surprise :) pick u up @ 8  
okay, cool :)_

"A date!" Abigail crows. "Taylor's got a date!"

"Shut up, shut up!"

"You're bluuuuushing!"

"Am not!" Taylor covers her cheeks with her hands. 

"Liar, liar, pants on fire! Friday's tomorrow, what are you going to wear?"

"Oh, gosh," Taylor says.

***

Friday night comes, and Taylor is standing in her bedroom in her underwear with everything she owns on her bed, just about. At least she's home alone, so there's no one to see her being an idiot -- her dad's at the casino in Joliet again.

Taylor leans against the closet door. "What am I doing?" she asks herself out loud. "This is crazy!" She puts Tim McGraw's Greatest Hits on the stereo. Maybe he'll inspire her. It's 7:30, so she's got a little time. 

Finally, she picks up her lacy cream-colored dress and pulls it over her head, then lets her hair out of its bath knot and checks herself out in the mirror. Not bad, she decides, and starts to put away the runner-up outfits. When everything is back where it belongs, Taylor puts on knee socks and her tall brown boots. She feels... kind of pretty.

Taylor decides to read instead of waiting by the window, since that would be weird. She's deeply engrossed in [book] when there's a knock at the door.

"Aah!" Taylor drops the book, then grabs her purse and scrambles to the door.

Rosemary's there, in dark jeans, black boots, and a printed silk blouse. "Hi," she says, smiling.

"Hi," Taylor says. "Um. You look... really nice."

"Thanks," Rosemary says. "So do you. Are you ready?"

"Totally."

Rosemary's car is old and small, but it runs well; Taylor's impressed. It's clean, too, and she can tell Rosemary takes care of it. "Where are we going?" Taylor asks, once they're pulling out of the alley.

"Look in the back," Rosemary says, putting one arm behind Taylor's seat to get on the road headed east.

Taylor does; there's... a basket? "A picnic?" she guesses.

"I thought it would be fun," Rosemary says. "On the beach."

"Oh, I love it," Taylor says. She claps her hands in glee. "A picnic!"

It's dark when they reach the lake shore, but the street lights are enough to see by. Rosemary laughs as she makes a show of brushing sand off the concrete steps so Taylor can sit there, and she's packed sparkling grape juice and cheese and apples and crackers and --

"A candle?" Taylor asks, taking it out.

"I thought it'd be -- nice," Rosemary says.

"Romantic," Taylor says.

Rosemary smiles. "Yeah."

When they're done eating, Taylor leans forward with her hands on her knees. "Look how pretty the city is from here," she says, looking out over the lake. "It's like fairyland."

Rosemary is warm against her side when she says, "And you're the queen of the fairies."

Taylor leans against her and laughs. "Titania or Mab?"

"Mab, I think," Rosemary says. She puts an arm around Taylor. "I don't want to have to be jealous of Oberon or... Donkey-Head Guy."

Taylor giggles again. She feels fizzy inside, from the bubbles in the juice and Rosemary holding her. "You don't have to be jealous of anybody."

"Good." Rosemary pulls her even closer, so Taylor wraps her arm around Rosemary's waist, daringly. "Because I really like you, Taylor."

"I really like you, too," Taylor says. It's true. She's only known Rosemary for a few days, but she'd like to know her better.

"Can I kiss you?" Rosemary asks softly, her breath stirring Taylor's hair.

"I think I'd like that," Taylor says.

"You think?" Before Taylor can answer, Rosemary takes her chin in one hand and tilts it up, then brushes their lips together. Taylor makes a little "mmph!" sound and leans into her.

Rosemary laughs a little bit and says, "You're amazing." She pulls back, still holding Taylor's face.

"You're -- you're a _tease,_ " Taylor tells her. She reaches up and tangles her fingers in Rosemary's hair and pulls a little bit. "I thought you were going to kiss me."

She laughs again. "Well, if you insist!" This time she doesn't tease, just slants their mouths together, and Taylor can't decide if she feels like she's drowning in Rosemary or like she was drowning before and Rosemary is oxygen. Either way, it feels so good -- Rosemary's lips, her tongue, her hand on Taylor's jaw...

Taylor pulls back then and wipes her mouth, scooting away. "I don't believe in love," she says, because that suddenly seems incredibly important.

Rosemary blinks at her, slowly. "Sometimes I think love is the only thing I do believe in."

"It's dangerous," Taylor says. "My parents..." No, she thinks, better not. "I don't want to be like them."

"There's got to be more to your parents than kissing," Rosemary says.

"Of course there is. I spend all my time trying not to be like them." Taylor takes off her glasses and cleans them on the hem of her dress, even though they're not dirty. "That's -- I work so hard in school, I don't play cards, I... it's everything I do."

Rosemary takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then she says, "I work hard in school. I don't gamble. I never have more than two beers anymore, and I brush my teeth and floss twice a day. I've had enough excitement to last me a lifetime. The only thing I want to do that's rebellious is to fall in love with you."

Taylor puts her glasses back on. Rosemary isn't laughing. "Really?"

"Really," Rosemary says.

"Okay," Taylor says.

"What do you mean, 'okay'?" But she's starting to smile, even before Taylor hikes her skirt up over her knees and straddles her legs.

"I mean, okay," Taylor says. She leans forward so her breasts press against Rosemary's. "Let's jump, then fall." This time Taylor controls the kiss, deep and long and wet, and when she pulls back, Rosemary's eyes are dark and half-lidded. "You're so pretty," she whispers.

"So're you," Rosemary whispers back. She kisses Taylor's throat and settles her hands on Taylor's hips, pulling her in tight against her.

" _Oh,_ " Taylor says, trying to scoot back. The warmth spreading through her from where Rosemary's jeans touched between her legs can't be appropriate at all. "I --"

"It's okay to feel good," Rosemary says. "Nobody can see." She pulls Taylor close again, and this time Taylor goes, rolling her hips. She groans into Rosemary's mouth.

"Ahem. _Ahem._ "

Oh, Jesus Lord in Heaven, there's someone there. Taylor freezes, then, very slowly, raises her head. "Good evening, officer," she says brightly.

He's blushing dark red. "I, uh, I'm sorry to interrupt, Miss, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. It's long past sundown."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, officer!" Taylor smooths down her dress and climbs off Rosemary's lap. "Right away, sir."

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss."

Somehow, they make it all the way to Rosemary's car before they crack up laughing.

"Your _face,_ " Rosemary says, gasping for breath. "You looked like a deer in the headlights!"

" _His_ face! He was even more embarrassed than I was!" Taylor puffs herself up to imitate him. "Uh, ladies..."

"Oh, God," Rosemary says. "That was... that's one for the memory books."

Taylor looks at her, laughing, head thrown back, looking young and happy, and a rush of some kind of warm, tender feeling starts in her heart. It bubbles up to her throat and floods down between her legs, and before she knows what she's doing, she cups Rosemary's cheek in one hand and kisses her.

Rosemary makes a quiet little moan and kisses back, hard -- then pulls back. "We should at least drive somewhere else," she says regretfully.

Taylor wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Probably," she agrees. It's logical, but she hates it.

"We could..." Rosemary stops, licks her lips, and starts again. "We could go back to my place?"

"Do, uh... do you want to do that?" Taylor asks.

Rosemary gives her one of those laser-eyed looks. "Yeah, I do," she says.

Taylor squeezes her legs together. "Then let's."

***

It turns out that Rosemary lives within walking distance of Taylor's dad's house, in a walk-up apartment with a view of an abandoned lot. Just like her car, it's small and clean. "It's lovely," Taylor says honestly.

"It's good enough for now," Rosemary says. " _You're_ lovely."

Taylor tilts up her chin to kiss her. Part of her can't believe this is happening, but the rest just feels good. She lets her hands drift down lower, from Rosemary's shoulders to her waist, and then, in a burst of daring, into the back pockets of her jeans.

That makes Rosemary let out a sort of moan into Taylor's mouth; Taylor feels like she's won a prize, like a gold star on a quiz, and laughs at the comparison.

"Want to start back where we left off?" Rosemary suggests, taking half a step back towards her futon.

"Yes," Taylor says decisively.

"Take off your boots, stay awhile." Rosemary slips free of Taylor's hands and sits down to get her own off, then leans back. "Going to join me?"

"I want to look at you for a minute," Taylor says, then tries to cover her blush with her hands. Why did she _say_ that?

But Rosemary just grins at her and says, "Oh yeah?", then flicks open another button on her shirt. So Taylor looks. The light is dim, but Rosemary is golden, even with her eyes in shadow. And she's looking back at Taylor, just waiting.

"Okay," Taylor says, and she sits down at the other end of the couch to pull off her boots.

"I like your socks," Rosemary says.

Taylor looks down; she grabbed the floral-print pair. "Thanks," she says. "They're sweet peas."

Rosemary laughs. "Oh, I know," she says, and for a moment Taylor thinks she sees -- something. She's not sure. But then it's gone, and Rosemary is reaching for her, saying, "Come here, tinker-Taylor-soldier-spy."

Taylor goes, rucking up her skirt and kneeling over Rosemary. "Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief," she continues, bending forward so her hair falls like a curtain around their faces.

"Adolescent psychologist doesn't scan," Rosemary says.

"I don't mind."

They make out for a while, and it's really great. Taylor can barely think.

"Can I touch you?" Rosemary asks abruptly. Her hands are buried in the hair at the nape of Taylor's neck, tugging in a way that makes Taylor feel tingly all over.

"You are touching me," Taylor points out. She leans forward to kiss Rosemary's jaw again.

"No, I mean --" Rosemary moves one of her hands down Taylor's back, lightly over her waist, to her lower belly, and stops.

"Oh my Lord," Taylor says. She presses her mouth to Rosemary's and rocks her hips up, trying to get that hand to keep moving. "Yes. Please."

"Good," Rosemary says, smiling. She slips her hand under the folds of Taylor's lacy skirt until she's cupping her, never breaking eye contact. "What do you like?"

Taylor closes her eyes, moving forward so the heel of Rosemary's hand pushes against her harder. "I don't know," she says. "This."

Rosemary laughs, mostly breath, and starts making little circles. "Like that?"

"Nnngh," Taylor says. She'd be embarrased by how inarticulate she is if it didn't feel so good.

"What do you do when you touch yourself?" She strokes the side of Taylor's face with the hand not busy driving her crazy. "Look at me."

Taylor opens her eyes. "I don't, much," she admits. "I've tried, but I just feel dumb. It's not like -- not like this."

"Oh, Taylor, Taylor," Rosemary says. "I want you to -- I want to do what you want. What do you think about?"

"You," Taylor says.

"God." Rosemary kisses her frantically, deep and wet and glorious. "You're amazing."

"I looked up lesbian sex online," Taylor says. She traces the neckline of Rosemary's blouse with one fingertip. "I got some ideas."

Rosemary shuts her eyes and clenches her leg muscles under Taylor, then looks at her, smiling. "Of course you did. What did you like the sound of?"

Taylor catches Rosemary's free hand and laces their fingers together, still moving with her. "Your fingers," she whispers. "Your mouth. Maybe a field trip to a store sometime."

Rosemary kisses her again, and moans into it. "Come on," she says. "Lie down." She moves Taylor easily, like she's tiny, and puts her on her back on the futon, skirt up around her waist, then settles between Taylor's legs. 

Before Taylor can say "Are you sure you want to?" or anything, she bends down and licks her, right through her panties. Taylor's hips buck, and she makes another whiny sound.

"Good?" Rosemary asks, running a finger along the edge of the elastic.

"Oh my goodness," Taylor says. Has she always had this many nerve endings in her thighs? "Yes, good, please."

Rosemary laughs again, then tugs her panties to the side and licks _in_ , and oh, Lord, it's so good Taylor's eyes roll back into her head. "Let me be good to you," Rosemary says. It's so quiet Taylor's not sure she was supposed to hear, but it's not exactly a hardship.

In what feels like no time, Taylor shakes apart under Rosemary's mouth and hands. "Let me do you," she suggests, once she can find words again.

Rosemary kisses her cheek, and Taylor turns her face to kiss her for real. It tastes strange, but not bad. "I'll help," Rosemary says, and gets up to pull off her jeans.

"Like a present," Taylor blurts out, watching her greedily. 

"What?" Rosemary turns, jeans halfway down her thighs, showing acres of creamy skin.

"You," Taylor says. "You're like unwrapping a present."

Rosemary smiles and kicks off the jeans. "Sweet." She straddles Taylor's thigh and leans down to kiss her, grinding down at the same time. She's wet, so wet, and Taylor is kind of amazed that it's from _her_.

"Can I touch you?" she asks.

"Sure." But instead of letting her flounder, Rosemary takes her hand and guides it to where she wants it. She's soft and wet under Taylor's fingers, and when Taylor rubs next to her clit, she makes a sound that's half Taylor's name, half growl.

"Wow," Taylor says.

"Do that again," Rosemary says, so she does, and it turns out it's not that hard to make her come; pretty soon Rosemary cries out and collapses, boneless, on Taylor.

Taylor pats her shoulder and smiles up at the ceiling. Maybe she'll be good at this lesbian thing.

***

They've been pretty much living together for a few months when everything comes crashing down around Taylor.

Literally. She ducks to avoid the bits of plate ricocheting off the wall. "Fine!" Taylor shouts. The blood is pounding in her ears. "If that's what you think, then -- fine!"

She runs out of the apartment, half-blinded by tears. On the second landing, she realizes she's forgotten her shoes, but it's too late. Maybe Rosemary will throw them out the window and she can put them on then, she thinks hysterically. 

When Taylor reaches the street, she stops. Now what? All her stuff is in their -- in _Rosemary's_ apartment. She hasn't been to her father's in weeks. He's probably not even there to let her in.

"Taylor. Taylor!" After a moment, she realizes she hears her name, and turns around.

It's Rosemary, and she's holding Taylor's flip-flops. She drops to her knees and puts Taylor's feet in them one at a time, making her feel crazily like Cinderella.

"I'm so sorry," Rosemary says, standing up. "Please, don't go. I -- I never want you to be alone."

Taylor looks up at her. She looks like she's been crying, too; her eye makeup is all smudged. "I'm sorry too," she says. "I don't want to leave you."

"Good. We can fix this." Rosemary grabs both of Taylor's hands in hers. "You're the best thing that's ever been mine."

Taylor laughs through the tears threatening to spill over again. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I don't think my daddy would take me back now that you've made a rebel out of me."

"That's all right," Rosemary says. "I'm keeping you forever and always."

They go back inside, only now Taylor can't stop smiling. They're strong; they can do this. Together.


End file.
